


First torment

by tveckling



Series: Sacrificial lamb [1]
Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: (Tho who can know lol), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Gore, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Gore, Graphic Description, Graphic Description of Corpses, Long long before canon, M/M, Not Really Character Death, Pre-Canon, Rape, Sexual Violence, because Death cannot die, graphic description of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 15:14:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29903016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tveckling/pseuds/tveckling
Summary: Thanatos stood frozen, his breath caught in his lungs. Before him, his enigmatic sisters watched him in stone-faced silence, as if waiting for him to process the words they had spoken, about the role he was to perform.But he couldn't. His mind and heart alike were screaming at him to refuse, and it was only through sheer willpower that he ignored his body's want to shift away from there. Swallowing hard, he clenched his fists, forcing himself tocalm down.
Relationships: Ares/Thanatos (Hades Video Game)
Series: Sacrificial lamb [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2198757
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22





	First torment

**Author's Note:**

> Me writing this: are you tired of being nice? don't you just want to go ape shit?
> 
> Super huge thanks to Cry, because this is my first true gore fic and their support helped me through the whole thing <3
> 
> A few notes for the fic:  
> \- This is taking place thousands of years before (when I guess) the game takes place, when the gods were young. So Than, Athena, Ares, and Aphrodite would have the appearance of ~18-20. Hermes, as far younger than the other main Olympians, looks like a 10 year old p much. The older gods look p much like they do in the game, as eternal adults who've finished growing up pfft  
> \- Ares, as God of War and Brutality and Bloodlust, goes into this 'must destroy and kill everything' once every century or so. Every time he kills someone the bloodlust is refueled, while causing violence and suffering and stuff it diminishes. If trapped his rage will only keep fuel the bloodlust until it's at maximum capacity. Solution: Death, who cannot die, will have to let himself be ripped apart until Ares' bloodlust is sated p much. ~~Yeah, no one's surprised about this pretext to have Ares fuck Than up in all the ways. A heart wants what it wants ¯\\_ (ツ)_/¯~~  
>  \- The Greek gods have ichor as their blood, and unlike humans theirs is said to be golden. Since the Furies and Hades have black blood when you fight them, I went with the Olympians having gold blood and the chthonic gods having black. Zag, as we well know, have red blood like humans.  
> \- Ares' armor was a pain, esp since we don't see the whole of it, but I settled in this fic for him wearing a short chiton and cuirass, and [pteruges](https://images.app.goo.gl/BXTu6TfemzMYRBfD7) under the cuirass. Pteruges can have different number of rows, as well as length so like... just go with it lol.
> 
> For those who want specific warnings for everything that happens in this fic, please go down to the end notes where there will be a list.

Thanatos stood frozen, his breath caught in his lungs. Before him, his enigmatic sisters watched him in stone-faced silence, as if waiting for him to process the words they had spoken, about the role he was to perform.

But he couldn't. His mind and heart alike were screaming at him to refuse, and it was only through sheer willpower that he ignored his body's want to shift away from there. Swallowing hard, he clenched his fists, forcing himself to _calm down._

"There must be… some mistake," he said, and flinched at the weakness of his voice, the unevenness.

"There is not," Clotho said, her hands moving without pause as she spun her thread. The spindle turned around, around, around, and Thanatos had to force himself to look away.

"But you can't be telling me to-"

"Crazed, War shall roam the earth until such time that Death stands in his way, for none among the mortals or gods on Olympus can quell his immense bloodlust. Only that which cannot die will." Lachesis looked at him with golden, hard eyes that seemed to see right through him, and Thanatos averted his gaze, feeling shame creep up his throat. He shouldn't be questioning his sisters like this, but the agonizing pressure in his chest made him keep going, keep trying to find some way out of the fate they were assigning him. He couldn't die, but he knew very well that there were fates that made one long for death's relief.

"I… I understand what you're saying. But is there really nothing else that can be done?"

"There is not," Atropos said, but unlike her sisters, Nyx's oldest daughter looked at Thanatos with gentle eyes. With her hands clasped at her front, she looked so much like their mother that Thanatos had to push down tears. "The Olympians could join forces and imprison him, as they did with their Titan parents."

"He would escape," Clotho said.

"His bloodlust immeasurable," Lachesis added.

"And he would end up bringing doom to us all," Atropos finished. "But he cannot be killed, for he is yet important and has parts to weave in the great thread of the world."

"So, instead I'm to…" The words got stuck in his throat, and Thanatos felt so young and small, a child longing for his mother's comforting arms.

Atropos tilted her head, and there was actual sympathy on her face. "You are one who would understand the importance of what you're asked. If you let yourself think, without your fear blinding you, you will see the necessity of your sacrifice. There will be many, but they will be temporary."

Facing that gentle but unyielding gaze Thanatos could only lower his head. "I understand," he said after a pause, his hands hanging still at his sides. "I will do as you say, Sisters."

There were no greetings and there were no parting words when you met the Fates, and Thanatos knew this. So he didn't wait for any to come before he shifted out of their dark glade, stepping down onto the floor of his own bedchamber. Looking around the room he felt strange, as if he existed on a different plane than his surroundings, as if he was looking at himself from a distance. Not even walking over to his desk and picking up Mort, holding the soft, familiar, beloved companion tightly in his hands, made that feeling disappear. He felt nothing as he studied the small figure.

He put Mort back on the desk. Stiffly, he removed his gauntlet and gorget, put them down next to his old companion. Turned around, calling his scythe to his hand. For a moment he hesitated, but then he placed it next to his bed. He didn't need any of them for what he was going to do.

But something stopped him from leaving his sword, as well. It was something he could hold onto, perhaps, a small source of strength and comfort. It wasn't going to be of much use against Ares, after all.

The all-seeing eyes of his sisters were clear in his memory. Taking a deep breath he shifted, because he knew the longer he hesitated the harder it would be to leave the safety of the Underworld behind and do what he had to do. Atropos was right about that, as she was always right; he knew when to put his responsibilities over his own personal well-being.

The clear, crisp, almost fruity air of Olympus was a shock to his body, and Thanatos made a face. It was bad enough to be on the surface, but the air up on the mountain was so different from what he was used to that it took effort to breathe in—if possible he would have preferred not to. The brightness permeating every inch of the heavenly gods' abodes hurt to even exist in, making small needles seem to dance across his uncovered skin. It truly was an awful place, and Thanatos would never understand how anyone could willingly stay there. Pulling up his hood to somewhat ease the strain on his eyes he moved forward, towards the big temple the Olympians used for their gatherings.

It didn't take long before his presence had been discovered, and soon Thanatos heard whispers all around him as minor gods and exalted followers gaped from the abodes he passed. Their horror at seeing him couldn't hide the underlying feeling of excitement, and already he was starting to feel worn out. There were no creatures as eager for drama, no matter what kind, as the Olympians and their followers. 

He truly, deeply, hated it there.

At least the whispering mobs stayed back when he entered the temple proper, and he felt grateful that they all knew better than to risk inciting one of the powerful gods' anger. That meant he could continue in peace. And already, as he walked up the stairs into the temple, he could hear raised voices.

There were several seats empty, was the first thing he saw as he walked into the large hall. He spotted several gods he recognized—Poseidon with his trident, Hermes buzzing in place, Aphrodite looking remarkably murderous—but other than them there was only Athena and Zeus, arguing with each other on the floor.

"-there is no chance of that, Father," Athena said, and though she seemed calm her voice boomed through the temple. She was young, just a century or two younger than Thanatos himself, but she was born with wisdom reaching far beyond her father's, and she stood tall before him. "I have weighed the risks, and this is the best course of action available to us. Don't you see we must act now? Ares is on a dangerous path, and only we can stop him."

"You can't," Thanatos said, his breathing calm and his voice even, and continued to walk forward as all eyes turned toward him.

"Thanatos?" Athena sounded confused, but it was far more preferable to her father immediately turning to affront.

"How dare you come here, boy? Olympus is not a place for Death to show himself!"

The distaste Zeus showed was very much reciprocated, but unlike the Olympian gods Thanatos had been painstakingly taught manners, and he kept from sneering as he bent his head slightly. "I come, following the Fates' decree."

There was deep silence following his words, and a small part of him enjoyed the respect his sisters received from even the highest of the gods.

"I know you have all gathered to discuss strategies of dealing with Lord Ares," Thanatos said and raised his head again. He might be a child to the god in front of him, but he needn't show any more deference to him, to any of them, than he wanted to. In the end, none of the gods on Olympus could avoid the fates his sisters had cast for them, and one day they would fall to him. He kept that thought in mind as he looked at them all, and it helped him keep his hands from trembling. "But nothing you decide will lead to anything but ruin for everyone. So, the Fates have said."

"But we can't just let him continue unhindered," Athena said, holding her spear tightly.

"That will not happen. It's for that reason I have come," Thanatos answered her, and he hated how easily the words fell from his tongue. All he wanted was to scream and take them all back.

"Do you mean to kill my son?" Lightning seemed to shoot from his eyes as Zeus towered over Thanatos. He was not a short person, but it was harder than he liked to not shy back.

Instead, he made himself stand tall and calmly face the god-king. "No, that is not why I've come."

"Then, why have you come, God of Death?" Athena asked, and it was a pleasure to turn to her instead. Her question was the beginning of the end of his time on Olympus, and he wanted to get away from there as fast as he could.

"I've come here to stop all of you. I will deal with Lord Ares myself, but I will assure you that he will return here shortly, without having brought humanity to ruins. Thus, the Fates have commanded."

Once again, silence met his words, and Thanatos wondered idly if that meant he could escape from there or not. Would his last words suffice as a parting phrase, or did he have to think of something else? The Olympians were so peculiar about rituals and ways of conducting, which could change on a whim, and he could never figure out what was the right or wrong way to do something. The norms he was used to in the Underworld were already hard enough for him to remember, and most of the time he didn't even try to remember Olympus'. Most of the time he tried not to go there at all.

It felt like minutes, but it had assuredly only been a few seconds when he decided that, yes, his words must have sufficed. However, a chipper voice stopped him, and he looked up as Hermes flew down from his seat. "Well, I'd say that's it, then, wouldn't you all agree? Our friend here's doing us a huge favor, dealing with Ares for us, and I, for one, can't begin to say how grateful I am. No need for fighting and all, and that's the best way to solve a difficult situation, wouldn't you all agree?"

The other god was far younger than he was, his appearance that of a small boy, but he winked conspiratorially as he passed by Thanatos to circle his father. Zeus looked annoyed, but he inclined his head.

"I suppose you're correct. But, hear me, boy! Shall I, or any of my kin, discover that your words were false, I will personally see to it that you face a suitable punishment for it."

"Yes, yes, I'm sure we all agree, because how can we not, that would be against all common sense. If you lie, you have to fess up and beg forgiveness, of course. I don't think good old Thanatos here is lying, but you never know, and I'm sure we will find out sooner or later, so we should probably just let him go his way, then. He has very important business to get to, don't you think? And I know for a fact we all have many important things to do, as well, so why don't we agree to end this meeting for today, huh, pops?"

Zeus hummed, then nodded. Hermes grinned at Thanatos from over his shoulder. "Yes, that sounds just about right. Carry on, then, little Death, but remember my warning."

"Certainly," Thanatos said simply, inclining his head for a moment. Behind Zeus, he could see Athena frowning, but before she could do more than open her mouth he shifted, leaving the too-bright temple behind.

Of course, the moment the mortal world spread out around him reality crashed into him, and he stumbled to the ground as his composure fell apart. Near him, surrounded by dead or dying mortals, he could feel Ares' presence, could feel the immense bloodlust emanating from him. His hands were shaking again. How was he supposed to deal with that? How was he supposed to simply let all that hunger for blood and violence be unleashed on him? He couldn't die, but he could be hurt and he could feel pain, and he was _scared._

He wanted to leave. He wanted to run away, let the mortal world perish without his interference, wanted to go back to his home and his brother and his mother, and never again think about Ares.

But he felt the sword biting into the mortal soldier, and he heard him scream. He saw, as clearly as if through his own eyes, as Ares turned his gaze on the next unfortunate person, his sword as red as his eyes. There had been screams all around him, but most of them had been brought to everlasting silence.

His legs were weak, but they would still carry him well enough. The shaking in his hands calmed after some focus. Taking a deep breath he made his decision, and shifted, appearing in front of the blood-soaked God of War. The field around them was littered with dead bodies of fallen soldiers, but Thanatos didn't pay them any attention.

The surprise on Ares' face quickly transformed into delight, and he smiled widely as he clasped Thanatos' shoulder. He looked too young, too joyful to have caused such slaughter. "Thanatos, such a pleasant surprise! Have you come to aid me? There are still many mortals around, so many souls that can fall to your scythe. It would be a pleasure to have you at my side, my friend, as we tear through the world."

Shaking his head Thanatos removed Ares' hand and took a step back. His heart was pounding in his chest. The camaraderie Ares was feeling would soon be gone, he knew, and he didn't look forward to it—but he knew what he had to do. "That's not why I'm here. You're not in your right mind, Ares, hunting down the humans like this. It brings me no pleasure, but you must be stopped."

As expected, the smile fell and Ares' face hardened. Thanatos couldn't help but glance at the sword in his hand. "Are you saying you intend to slay me, Death? Are you here to _stop_ me?"

Swallowing hard, Thanatos couldn't stop his hand from grabbing the hilt of his own sword. It was just for a sense of comfort, that was all. Ares' eyes followed the movement, however, and Thanatos could feel the air around then growing tenser. "I'm not going to kill you, Ares. I am here to stop you, but that's not how."

Ares scoffed, and without warning he dashed forward, bringing his sword up in a slash that would have resulted in a devastating wound. Thanatos should have stayed still, should have let the sword reach him and cut him down, but before he could think his body was moving, barely avoiding the edge as he threw himself backward. Grinning, Ares followed him, bringing his sword down for another attack. Thanatos just barely managed to pull out his sword and block Ares, grunting from the effort. There was no doubt about which of them was stronger.

"If you want to stop me, you'd better fight properly, oh, Death," Ares said, and Thanatos shuddered from the way his eyes gleamed with hunger. Hunger for violence, he knew. Hunger for bloodshed, for _death._

And that's what he was there to provide—enough blood and violence to sate the craze that had taken the normally reasonable god in its grip, without letting it regrow with every death.

So why did he keep moving, desperately fending off Ares' attacks, doing his best to evade and block and remain out of reach? Especially when it was only a matter of time before he fell to the martial god. Thanatos knew his strengths and weaknesses well, and he knew he couldn't compare to Ares in battle. He reaped mortals; he didn't _fight_ them. He'd never been in a fight where he was actually outmatched, where he was actually being _hurt._

But still, his body moved, even as his breath got heavier, even as he kept amassing minor wounds he proved too slow to dodge. It was a small comfort that he had managed to give Ares a few cuts too, but unlike him, the other god didn't even seem to notice when Thanatos' sword reached him. He hadn't slowed down a bit, his grin seemingly growing hungrier as he continued to wear Thanatos down.

And his sword continued to flash through the air, forcing Thanatos back, forcing him to keep his concentration on nothing but the deadly edge. He didn't have time to even think about making any attacks of his own, didn't have the chance to look around and take in his surroundings, couldn't think about his sisters' disappointment in how he was acting against their wishes. He could only keep trying to stand his ground.

Of course, he was doomed from the start.

Ares' sword shot through the air, and Thanatos couldn't get up his sword in time. A weak gasp escaped him as he fell to his knees, clutching at his side where Ares' sword had pierced him. His sword fell to the ground, useless, forgotten. Ares loomed over him, for a moment just watching him as Thanatos tried to breathe through the pain, then he pushed his sandal against Thanatos' shoulder as he pulled his sword out. There was nothing Thanatos could do, except let out a half-choked yell, as he was kicked down on his back.

The fight was over. And now his real trial would begin. Thanatos blinked away tears and watched Ares come closer.

"You weren't that bad of an opponent," Ares said as he leaned over Thanatos. "I must admit, you did far better than I had expected. But not nearly well enough. Perhaps next time you will prove more of a challenge."

"Thank you for the praise," Thanatos said weakly, for some unknown reason. Perhaps in the hopes of prolonging the inevitable. He watched Ares' sword, and he didn't even try to keep his hands from shaking. The pain was coming in waves, and he kept making these horrible little sounds. He wanted it over with. He knew it was only the beginning.

Once he realized what Thanatos' presence meant, Ares, in the state he was in, wouldn't be able to ignore the temptation. And then the pain Thanatos was feeling would be _nothing._

"I'll see you next time." Ares changed his grip and drove his sword straight down into Thanatos' heart.

Throughout his life, Thanatos had experienced all manners of death through his innate connection to the mortals. He’d felt what it was like to die in the most peaceful way, and the most painful. But it had always been someone else who’d died, someone else’s body who had to experience the actual process of dying.

He hadn’t known pain could overwhelm his mind, to the degree that his body could only twitch with small, pitiful movements, that any and all thoughts were drowned out by the blinding, agonizing feeling of dying while he was unable to actually die. He hadn’t known it would hurt for his body to heal itself, as it seemed to turn back time and make him feel his body being stabbed again. He hadn't known it would cause every nerve to quiver while they burned as his Fate-granted body forced his wounds to close, new blood to once again fill his veins, his heart to once again beat.

Now, he knew.

There was no more pain, no more wounds, but Thanatos coughed and gasped as he rolled to his side, trying to push himself up on too shaky arms. He felt exhausted, his mind still reeling from his body patching itself together. But he couldn’t dwell on it; he had a job to do, and he had no idea how long it’d taken his body to regenerate. What if Ares had already moved on? Thanatos didn’t know if he’d be able to make himself follow.

There was no reason to worry. Ares was bent over a body just a short distance away, staring at him with wide eyes.

Closing his eyes, finally truly resigning himself to his fate, Thanatos let himself fall back on his back. He swallowed, trying to calm his labored breathing. “This… this is why the Fates sent me. You cannot kill me. But you will be able to pour all your desire for spilled blood into trying to destroy me; it is a challenge worth testing out, no?”

He could hear Ares come closer. Heard the pebbles crunch under his sandals, and then his eyes flew open as he felt roughened fingers grab his chin. Ares was bent over him, studying him with a fascinated look that made Thanatos shudder. A sick feeling grew in his stomach, because there was no way that look would lead to anything good. But he didn't fight the grip, only stayed still.

"Is this my gift?" Ares asked thoughtfully, stroking Thanatos' neck. "Or should I call it a bribe, perhaps? Will you be able to keep my interest and prevent me from bringing war to the mortals, Thanatos?"

He wasn't interested in an answer; unnoticed, there was a knife in his hand, and before Thanatos could think of an answer he moved to use it. Thanatos only saw the flash of the blade before it was buried in the side of his neck, and the world flickered as he choked, as he tried to scream, as his hands flew up toward his neck—but the knife twisted, and Thanatos could _feel_ as it moved, ripping through his skin with terrifying strength, through his muscles, through nerves and arteries, through _everything._ His body shuddered, his hands clawing mindlessly at his wide open throat as Ares sat back on his heels, watching with bated breath.

Everything was fire. Thanatos choked, tried to swallow, and he would scream, _all he could think of was to scream,_ but all he could make was weak gurgling. Thick, black liquid bubbled from his lips—ichor, the blood of the gods, containing their life, their power, their divinity—as he stared with blind but all-seeing eyes, as he was being enveloped by the scorching heat of his throat, burning away whatever sense he had left. Slowly, his vision was getting fuzzy, darkness eating at the edges, and he found it hard to keep his eyes open. Idly he thought, in some small part of his mind that was still working, that, oh, he was dying. Finally.

But he'd forgotten he couldn't die. There would be no relief for him. _This was only the beginning._

Tears fell freely from his eyes as he felt his body reacting. Again, mindlessly, he tried to scream, arched his body, clawed at his throat as it slowly, _excruciatingly,_ pieced itself back together. Every moment was agony as he felt his skin stitching itself together, as inside his throat the torn ends of everything that was cut through reattached. Again, he screamed nothing but blood. 

He'd felt mortals die in fires. This was similar, but yet so much worse, and he wished, he prayed, he _begged_ for death, for relief, for the pain to _be over._

"You can't die," Thanatos heard Ares say over the screaming, _his_ screaming. "This is… most fascinating. I will have to see what limits you have. If there _are_ limits."

The healing must be over, because Thanatos could feel the pain retreat from his body, even as it kept ravishing his mind, even as he choked and coughed from absolutely nothing. The cloying taste of his divine blood was heavy in his mouth, and he tried to spit it out, though it had already been absorbed. He wept, helplessly, uncontrollably, trembling throughout his whole body as Ares caressed his face. The touch was gentle, but his skin, his body, every single nerve was so raw and sensitive even that small sensation made him flinch away. The cruel twist of the other god's mouth suggested he saw the way Thanatos reacted and found amusement in it.

"I must say, you look lovely covered in ichor. You chthonic gods bleed such a magnificent color, and in your case I find it deepens the darkness of your skin in a most fetching way." With that same terrifying gentleness Ares brushed away Thanatos' hair from his face, rolling a lock between his fingers. "I can't wait to see how you will look covered in it from top to bottom."

Shuddering, Thanatos closed his eyes when Ares grabbed a fistful of hair and raised his other hand, blade at the ready.

Soon his screams filled the air, covering the sounds of his flesh being cut into, his body torn apart again and again in so many different ways. Ares didn't tire, kept searching for new ways to make Thanatos scream, for some limit to what the god could heal from, all the while he only seemed to sink further into the blood-craze that twisted his mind. Slowly the sun disappeared and night fell on them, and still Ares didn't give any sign of letting up.

He certainly had gotten his wish fulfilled, however. When he tossed Thanatos to the ground, watching as he fell to his side in a heap, there were no traces of clean hair or skin, even through the remains of his tattered clothing. His gray hair was darker than his skin has been, darker yet than his mother's sky. Sending his sword away to the ether, Ares crouched in front of Thanatos, pulling him up by his hair to peer at him curiously.

"I must wonder, Thanatos, why you endure this. Why do you follow the Fates' orders to this degree? You could escape at any time, shift away to the Underworld where you won't suffer any longer. Instead, you're here, subjecting yourself to more pain than you must have felt at any point in your lifetime. It confounds me."

He wanted to answer, give some sort of retort, but when he tried the nerves in his throat spasmed, and he convulsed as he choked on the phantom pain. Ares gave a small smile, letting go of his grip. Thanatos fell helplessly back to the ground, reflexively curling up and gasping as he tried to breathe.

Ares looked around idly, before looking up into the sky. When he turned back to Thanatos he wore an ugly smile and cruelty shone in his eyes. The moment he reached out Thanatos flinched away, but he couldn't prevent Ares' hand from covering his mouth, fingers digging into the tissue between his upper and lower jaw.

"What," Ares mused, "would your distinguished mother say if she saw how you willingly submit to my blade, again and again? Night has fallen, after all, so she is surely bearing witness to what we're doing. How her heart must ache as her son puts himself through such torment."

For the first time since meeting with his sisters, Thanatos saw _red,_ and he grabbed Ares' arm, intent on tearing it away from his face so he could curse him out for _daring_ to pull his mother into this.

But Ares only grinned, the air around him thick with the echoes of countless mortals screaming. Leaning forward, he took a tight hold around Thanatos' neck, while his fingers tensed on Thanatos' face. It felt like they were digging through the skin, into his very bones, but no matter how Thanatos pulled the hand was immovable. The rage that had blinded him was gone, and he could only trash mindlessly, trying to get loose, as his flesh tore, as the pain and the fear of what Ares was doing grew.

"You don't have to answer," Ares said, his fingers breaking through skin and muscles and veins with godly strength, and _pulled._

Thanatos would have screamed, had he been able to. Instead he convulsed, hands clawing feebly at Ares' hand holding him down, choking on blood and mucus and bone pieces and _agony_ as his jaw was torn off, as his throat was ripped apart, veins and arteries and cartilage severing under Ares' iron grip. Fresh, crisp air hit his exposed nerves, and he could never have imagined the feeling would _hurt_ so much. 

Ares stared down at him with an enraptured smile, breathing heavily, the gory bits he'd ripped from Thanatos' body dangling from his hand. Thanatos tried to make a sound, but his effort only made more blood flow from his open throat, from his mouth, pouring down the sides of his face. It burned. Everything he could feel, everything in his mind, everything he was _burned._ It felt like he'd yawned, like he was still yawning, but he couldn't close his mouth, couldn't feel his mouth, only that gaping yawn, and it hurt, it burned, it was killing him, _Ares was killing him,_ again and again and again, and he couldn't stop it, couldn't stop the burning, couldn't move his hands to try and cover his throat or his mouth from the air, the painful air, and tears ran from his eyes like blood, and he was staring into the sky, but he didn't want to stare into the sky, not _his mother's_ sky, but he couldn't move his head, couldn't move anything, and he was _burning._

"Hm. I might have miscalculated," Ares said somewhere far, far away. "It is a memorable picture, that's for sure. I will do my utmost to ingrain it into my memory. But this lack of screaming, now, that will not do. It seems I will have to leave your face be, in order to hear that sweet sound."

At the perimeter of his vision, he could see Ares, his figure somehow clear in the middle of the blurry darkness. He held Thanatos' bloody jaw high in his hand, looking between it and Thanatos. A part of Thanatos, the small part of his mind that still could think, wanted to rile at that, wanted to demand it back, it was his, it was _him,_ and Ares might kill him, but he couldn't possess him, wholly or partly.

And as he gurgled ichor, as he managed to make his fingers twitch, as he stared with defiant hate in his chest, he saw green smoke appear around the gory part Ares had ripped out. _His_ smoke, that always appeared when he shifted. The remains of his throat worked as he tried to speak, and it was wide open, it was torn apart, he didn't have half his mouth, he didn't have a tongue, so _how_ could he be choking?

Distantly, over his erratic heartbeat, over the heavy blood bubbling from his throat, he could hear Ares' sound of surprise.

He saw, he _felt,_ as the smoke enveloped the parts of his body he demanded back, and then he felt his open wound being covered, felt the cartilage slip into the bloody mess of his throat, felt bones settle inside the torn edges of his face, felt it all knit together, and he screamed, he screamed, _he screamed._

Darkness took him, and he didn't feel anything.

The sun was high in the sky when he came to. His body was sore, but his face was whole, he could move his jaw, could swallow, and he could cry from the relief. But as he tried to move pain shot through his body, and he realized belatedly, as he gritted his teeth, as he fumbled around blindly, his eyes almost blind from the bright light, that there was a sword in his gut. The edges cut into his palms as he grabbed it, tried to lodge it, tried to get it _out,_ but he didn't notice. There was blood filling his throat again, or bile, or some combination, he didn't know. He forced it back anyhow, his breathing coming in harsh, uneven gasps.

"Ah. You're awake."

Ares came into view, and though he wasn't wearing that hungry smile there was an unhinged look in his eyes. He leaned on the sword, and Thanatos threw his head back, mouth open in a silent, breathless scream, his body shaking as it tried in vain to convulse, to escape the sword and the pain.

"I've been waiting. I got bored a few times, but if there are no screams it really isn't the same. But you're awake now. Now, you can scream for me, while I drain you of that beautiful blood."

Thanatos cried out when Ares pulled out the sword, the blade cutting his hands all the way to his bones. Cradling his shaking, ruined hands, Thanatos tried curling up, gasping, fighting for air, fighting the illogical fear of opening his mouth too much, of that gaping unending yawn. But there was Ares' foot, pushing him back to his back, and then there was the sword again, piercing his shoulder. There was barely enough time for the scream to escape his throat before Ares roughly pulled it out again, an intent look on his face, a grin quickly growing. Then he stabbed the sword into Thanatos again, seeming not to care about where it hit, only _that_ it did.

There was no time to breathe, no time to shield himself from the sensation of his skin being cut open again and again, of his bones shattering by merciless blows, of his organs being punctured. He could only scream as the continuous attacks wrapped a blanket of agony around his mind. There was nothing but the pain, nothing but Ares and his sword; Thanatos didn't even notice himself raising his shaking, ruined, _useless_ hands, as if they could shield him. The thick, dark blood dripping from them onto his face reminded him of how ridiculous the gesture was.

But, to his breathless surprise, the attacks stopped. Ares leaned forward over him with a deep frown, his sword stuck into the ground next to them. When he grabbed one of the raised arms Thanatos tried to flinch back, a whimper escaping him. He didn't get anywhere, couldn't escape the iron grip, could only watch as Ares held onto his arm with both hands before quickly bending his forearm in a direction _it wasn't supposed to go._ The crack of the bone snapping was loud in the field, completely drowning out the sound of the feasting vultures, drowning out any other sound, until Thanatos' screaming replaced it.

His mind was overwhelmed, spears of pain shooting up into his head as his arm fell to the ground, as the muscles spasmed uncontrollably, and the added pain was barely felt as Ares broke his other arm as well.

The bone was sticking out of his skin, a bloody mess, just like the rest of him was, Thanatos thought absently before Ares dropped that arm too. The movement made blinding stars flash in front of his eyes, and he tossed his head, sobs wrecking his body.

"There we go. Now I can see you clearly again."

The sound of the sword being pulled free made him shudder, which only made even more pain flash through his body and mind. As the sword pierced him again, and again, and _again,_ he jerked, choking on ichor as he tried to scream, and he wondered idly, with a strange feeling of disassociation, if he'd ever be rid of the cloying taste of his blood, if he'd ever stop feeling it choke him, if he'd ever stop feeling the neverending pain. He couldn't imagine it. A world without pain seemed so strange, almost silly, the fantasy of a memory of a life he once lived.

He didn't notice as he stopped screaming, as the only sounds escaping him became weak groans and whines. He didn't notice how he stopped writhing, stopped twisting around, tossing his head around as he tried to avoid the sword and the man-god-monster standing above his, his red eyes shining as he kept stabbing his blade into Thanatos' broken body, the air around him colored red. He didn't notice how Ares stopped, frustration written all over his face, how he sat down on Thanatos' chest.

He did notice when Ares grabbed his face. The dizziness made it impossible to focus, however, and he found himself far too light-headed to hear the words Ares said, hissed, yelled. When Ares let go of him with a sound of disgust, sitting up straight, he could only let his head fall back onto the ground, lolling to the side powerlessly. The muscles in his arm twitched, but even as renewed pain shot through him he couldn't make a sound. 

He could feel the bone in the first arm Ares broke start to rearrange itself, every nerve in his body shuddering. It was healing itself, he thought, faintly. That must be why the pain never stopped being so overpowering, why it always felt new, like his body had never experienced pain before.

He wanted to laugh at that, because the pain never stopped in his mind.

Ares talked again, saying something to himself, but Thanatos couldn't spare even a bit of focus on trying to decipher the words. He was so cold, despite the night not having arrived yet, so cold he wondered if Ares had put a spell on him, if he would be freezing to death, if his body was shaking as much as it felt like. His stomach felt weird, cramping, the pressure in his chest rising towards his throat.

It seemed he must have lost consciousness for a moment, because suddenly Ares was back, bending close over him, his hand in Thanatos' hair. He could feel it, as if far away, felt as Ares wrapped a fistful of long locks around his hand. He felt as the edge of the sword pressed against his throat. All he did was blink lethargic, sighing as the pressure increased, feeling distantly as the blade moved across his throat, as his skin ripped apart, as his throat was cut wide open, as the blade continued forcing its way through him, down, down, the whole way through.

Then, his vision went black, and he stopped thinking.

It was night again, Thanatos saw as he opened his eyes. For a moment it confused him. He'd gone from the everlasting, silent, dark nothingness, where there were no thoughts, no pain, no _him,_ to what felt like a cheap imitation. But he breathed in, and realized, as he flexed his fingers, closed his hands, without pain shooting through him, that he was back in his own body. That Ares was crouched next to him, staring intently.

He was scared, feared the pain, the blades, the insane look in his fellow god's eyes. But he was also so very _tired,_ down to his very bones. He stared back, silently, only twitching as Ares reached out to stroke his hair.

"I should be angry. True, I am frustrated like I've never been. But mostly I'm amazed. No one has galled me like this, refusing to die, no matter what I do. I thought, for sure, that by severing your head from your body, I would finally succeed. No god, no matter how resilient their body and spirit, would survive that. And yet…"

Thanatos shuddered as Ares' hand trailed down his face. When he felt calloused fingers rub his throat he couldn't stop a whimper, and he closed his eyes, as if that could save him from whatever Ares was going to do next. He was expecting pain and didn't move when that hand closed around his throat, pressing hard and making Thanatos open teary eyes as he fought for breath.

"I certainly wasn't prepared for that strange smoke appearing, again, and taking your head from my grasp. Although I suppose I shouldn't be surprised by now. I must admit, however, that I don't regret making the attempt. It gave me plenty of ideas, as well as many questions I plan on finding the answers to. And this time I hope that you will remain with me the whole time, conscious and aware of what I'm doing to you. What _you_ have chosen to go through."

They were gods, but that didn't mean darkness didn't blind them. Ares let go of Thanatos' throat, and while Thanatos desperately drew for breath he walked over to take the torch that lit up their area of the field. He blew on it, and Thanatos could feel it heat up, growing stronger from the god's power. The light flickered across the bodies surrounding them at a distance, their bloated, deformed faces seeming to stare at the gods. Thanatos shuddered and looked away. Though he was more than used to death, those empty eyes were making him feel completely exposed.

The way the light flickered across Ares' face as he came closer again, however, only made him look all the more sinister. Thanatos shivered, his eyelids twitching, as he saw a sword in Ares' hand. Ares only smiled.

"The first question I will have answered: will you regenerate incinerated body parts too?"

A terrible chill filled his chest, and desperately Thanatos scrambled backward, away from Ares' bloody eyes, from that sword, from that torch and the fire it would bring. But he didn't get far before the sword rammed down through his thigh. He twisted, threw his head back, and screamed.

"We can't have you move around too much during the test," Ares said and drove another sword through Thanatos' left shoulder. His grin was like a wolf's, baring teeth more than smiling as he drove yet another sword through Thanatos' right shoulder, preventing him from moving beyond small, pained jerks. His voice easily, somehow, cut through Thanatos' screaming. "Remember that _you chose to remain,_ my sweet, dear, delicious Death."

Thanatos could only watch as Ares put the torch's flame to his hand. The smell of burned flesh reached his nose before the pain registered in his brain. Fueled by the desperate, mindless need to _get away,_ he struggled against the swords, tried to pull his body free, tried to pull at least an arm free. But he remained stuck, the freshly spilled blood filling the pool of dried blood beneath him as he struggled. In the flickering of the fire it looked almost red, like if he'd been a human. He almost wished he was. Ares held down his arm, and he could do nothing as his hand blackened, shriveled, _burned._

It was hell, was all he could think, detached from the burning of his own body, even as he could hear himself screaming, could feel his hand contorted by inhuman heat. It was hell, his accursed body continuously, though slowly, healing the injuries he sustained. After every break, every chance Ares gave his immortal body to heal, the pain was as new. Worse, even. It was like his body kept rebuilding itself, covering his wounds with new skin, sensitive to the point where even a breeze would make him toss his head. Humans stopped feeling pain when they were burning to death, once the fire burned the nerves—if they hadn't already died at that point. But Thanatos never reached that point, never felt the freedom of no more pain. He screamed until his voice grew hoarse, and twisted as much as he could, as Ares' flame moved up his arm. He felt every excruciating, eternal moment.

But, though his body never grew numb, though he never stopped reacting, his mind detached itself. It was like looking at someone else, twisting and turning on the ground. It was someone else screaming; not him. It was someone else's body being destroyed, over and over as the God of War, of Violence, of Brutality and Bloodlust tried new ways to kill it. Fire didn't work. Blades didn't work. Bloodletting didn't work. Poison didn't work. The bloodied, broken, ruined body on the ground kept screaming, kept bleeding, never losing consciousness as its body kept healing itself. Carefully, the blood-crazed god made sure to stop before that point was reached, every time, and waited until the wounds he'd inflicted healed. Then, he continued.

But the pauses grew longer, more frequent. The red-eyed god seemed tired, almost. The light in his eyes was dimming, though the cloud of bloodlust surrounding him remained thick. The body on the ground kept writhing, kept screaming. He could hear _himself_ screaming, but he refused it, refused to acknowledge it, refused to feel the pain, refused to _feel._

Night turned to day, then night again. Several more rotations, the sun and the moon changing places. He disappeared into the drifting of the clouds, the drying of the blood on the ground, the withering of the grass beneath the body. The screaming, always the screaming. He didn't feel.

It was day. The blood-seeking god was sitting on the ground, watching, staring at the darkly soaked body next to him. It wasn't broken, hadn't been for a while. It was simply curled up, eyes closed as though it was sleeping. The bloody god watched it, breathing hard, looking like the break was for his benefit and not for the broken body to heal. He had been sitting there for a long time already.

So when the god moved, it demanded his attention. He thought it was time for more pain, more screaming, more blood. But the god didn't start breaking the body. He watched, an uneasy feeling spreading, even though he _didn't feel,_ as the god pushed the not-broken body to its back. He watched as the god ripped off the tattered excuse of clothing that remained on that body. He _felt_ those hands touching him, touching _his_ body, spreading _his_ legs.

He opened his eyes and saw Ares looking down at him, kneeling between his legs.

When Ares smiled it was triumphant. His hands tightened on Thanatos' thighs. "There you are. You've been soulless for so long, Thanatos. I'm glad to see the light returning to your eyes."

"What-" Thanatos swallowed, pushed past the way his throat ached as though it wasn't completely healed. His hands shook as he grabbed Ares'. "Stop this."

Ares laughed, almost giddy. He let go of Thanatos' thighs, twisted his hands so he could grab Thanatos', then leaned forward as he gathered both of the hands in one of his. Thanatos had experienced so many times how futile it was to struggle against Ares' pure strength, but still, he tried.

"Ares, release me! You're going too far. Think about what you're doing!"

Ares smiled, and it made despair settle in the pit of Thanatos' stomach. "I am, and I have. If I had known this would bring you back to me I would have done it long ago. I demand full attention from my companions, don't you know?"

"I'm not… I'm a god, not one of your 'companions'," Thanatos said, eyeing the knife Ares had summoned to his hand.

"What else should you be called, hm? You _are_ keeping me company, after all."

That was one to look at it, he supposed, but it didn't sit right with him. He started to argue, but before he actually got out any words Ares leaned down and kissed him. Staring, not breathing, he froze. Ares tugged at his lip, bringing him back to himself, and quickly he pressed his teeth tightly shut, throwing his head to the side. Away from Ares and his unwanted kisses.

The next moment the knife was driven through his wrists, and Thanatos jerked, his mouth reflexively opening as a scream tore itself from his throat. Ares' hand grabbed his face and turned it around. Ichor-bloody fingers reached into his mouth, and sheer panic gripped him as he saw yet another knife in Ares' other hand. He tried to turn away, terror flooding his mind, but Ares gripped his tongue hard, pulling it out, and Thanatos' heart was pounding in his ears. He saw Ares raise his knife, but he closed his eyes just before it cut off his tongue. Blood poured into his mouth, filling it with the cloying, sick, heavy taste he'd gotten so used to, and he half-screamed, half-choked.

Ares carelessly tossed the part he'd cut off to the side, once again grabbing Thanatos' face, squeezing until he forced his eyes open. His head was pounding, the stump of his tongue was pounding, his hands and arms were pounding, and he could barely focus enough to hear what Ares said.

"I enjoy your screaming. _Only_ your screaming."

Thanatos cried, helplessly, when Ares leaned back. He saw, through the blurry mess his vision had become, Ares reaching under his pteruges and loosening his loincloth—tried looking away as Ares pushed the strips aside, but couldn't. He was aroused, very evidently so, and Thanatos couldn't stop a whimper from escaping.

His fingers spasmed, trying to move, trying to do _something_ when Ares pumped his cock a few times. In his mind he kept begging, the way he'd refused to do before, no matter what was being done to him. But what was happening was different. It was degradation, a horrible violation simply because Ares _could,_ a show of dominance that shook Thanatos more than everything else he'd done.

The look in Ares' eyes was different than earlier, almost desperate, but his grin was hungry when he reached down and roughly shoved two fingers into Thanatos' body, clearly not caring when Thanatos threw his head back with a keeping sob, his body twisting as he tried to get away. Ares wouldn't let him, and the rough fingers kept moving inside him, until, finally, Ares pulled them out and pushed him down again, easily ignoring the panicked struggling. The pain from the knife holding his arms immobile was far from Thanatos' mind, forgotten, when Ares spit onto his palm and rubbed his cock. It had only grown more erect, and Thanatos shuddered as Ares pressed the tip of it against his aching rim.

Shaking his head desperately, Thanatos tried to speak, to protest, to get out some sort of words through the bloody mess his mouth had become. His legs tightened, reflexively trying to close. Futile. Useless. Ares didn't even look up at him when he pushed in.

Thanatos was young, and he'd always prioritized his work. He had never felt much carnal desires, certainly never enough to want to try laying with someone. He'd thought, if he were to find interest in someone, it would be on his own terms. Slow. Gentle, maybe. Passionate, hopefully.

He'd never thought of his partner pushing him down while forcing him open. Tears blinded him, and he stopped trying to see anything, feeling almost relieved as he closed his eyes. There was a feeling in his stomach, like he was going to be sick, but he pushed it down and away.

Ares' hands were crushing his hips as he pulled out, before slamming right back in, and Thanatos could feel something tearing inside of him. He shook his head, groaning softly. His wrists were nothing but a burning, painful sensation, and he pulled at his hands to get more of that, to distract himself from his lower body.

It was far harder to do when he felt Ares leaning down over him, his voice close and intimate. "You act so shocked, as if you've never seen this happen. It happens. In wars, in cities and villages, to men and women alike. Don't pretend you are ignorant."

Ares pushed his legs higher, and Thanatos sobbed as he felt Ares pound into him, reaching further than before. He could feel his own blood, from how he was torn open, making it easier for Ares to continue violating him. Every moan and shaking exhale from the god above him made him want to scream, at his mother for giving him a cursed body, at his sisters for telling him what he had to do, at the world for creating such a situation. At himself, for letting it happen.

"You're silent… too silent. Not good." Ares groaned, one of his hands releasing Thanatos' leg to grab the knife in his wrists instead, jostling it, and Thanatos couldn't stop his wail. " _Yes,_ that's more like it. Your voice… I want more. I want you to _scream_ for me."

Thanatos heaved when Ares let go of the knife, his head lolling to the side. His mouth was burning, pain spreading through his head, his throat, and he had the quick thought that his tongue must be beginning to heal. Whatever the purpose of that was.

He didn't see what was happening, but he felt Ares move, inside and against him. He felt Ares' hand on his hip. He felt the blade being stabbed into his stomach.

" _Yes,_ " Ares hissed, the sound drowned out by Thanatos' mindless scream. He twisted the knife, cutting downwards, cutting him _open._

All thoughts and sensations from Ares' violation disappeared, and Thanatos didn't feel sick anymore. There was only pain, deafening pain, paralyzing _pain._ He couldn't breathe, couldn't see, couldn't hear anything as Ares stuck a hand into his open stomach. But he _felt_ it, felt something unfamiliar and foreign, something that did _not belong._ He felt as Ares grabbed rows of his guts and ripped them out, and if he could have he would have screamed. He might have screamed. He must have screamed. But he didn't know, didn't have the capacity of being aware of anything but the open hole in his stomach and the hand once again pushing into it, ripping him apart bit by slimy bit.

The hand soon retreated, and Thanatos breathed, he probably breathed, or maybe he was still screaming, he wasn't sure. He felt Ares' hands on his hips, felt his dick pounding into his body. His torn open body, in so many places. Intestines, from _his_ body, lay spread carelessly on the ground, and his hands twitched uselessly. Some nearby vultures made sounds of interest, but instead of coming closer they started fighting with each other instead. Thanatos wished they'd come and hack him to pieces; maybe then he'd be able to escape his living nightmare.

Ares groaned, his eyes dimmed over as he stared down at Thanatos' body. At the open hole, the hole he'd stuck his hand into, the hole he'd torn out Thanatos' organs through. And Thanatos could only watch as he did it again, could only moan in dizzying pain as Ares seemed to rummage around inside his body, accompanied by unnatural squishing sounds. He felt it, the hand, deep inside him, too far, deeper than anyone or anything should be. He couldn't breathe, try as he might.

"I wonder..." Ares mused, ripping out more guts and tossing the bits aside. "I wonder, how far down will I have to go, how much more will I have to tear out of you before I can see my own cock as I claim you."

His abdomen was a pulsing void of pain that stretched its tendrils out toward the rest of his body. Thanatos didn't even feel the difference anymore between when Ares' hand was in there and when it was not. He could barely feel his ruined hands, only faintly felt Ares' dick move in and out of him. The tears were burning on his face as they ran down it, but not nearly as much as the sharp burning of his tongue healing. Preoccupied as he was, Ares didn't notice the green smoke surrounding the small appendage; Thanatos didn't notice either, until the tang of ash filled his mouth, just before he choked on yet another burst of agony.

He felt, not for the first time, that he was truly understanding the feelings of those mortals who begged him to save them from their pain.

Dimly, he heard, over the roaring in his ears, Ares make a triumphant noise. He must have missed Ares continuing to tear him apart. Not that it mattered—the void was still the same, still bringing him to the brink of mindless insanity. His thoughts kept wandering, disappearing with each wave of pain that assaulted every sense he had left. It never ended, the pain, never left him. Ares didn't let it. He wondered if he was still screaming, if it titillated Ares as much as fucking into his ruined body.

From the way Ares had taken to fully concentrate on slamming in and out of him, he guessed it did.

His wrists were burning, more and more as the pain in his mouth disappeared, as fewer sources competed for the shattered remains of his attention. They should have healed by now. Would have, if not for the knife still stuck in them. Instead, he could feel his skin constantly being cut as he moved, as the knife was moved, the too sharp edge slicing his flesh open. Maybe it wouldn't hurt as much if he stopped moving, if he stopped twitching and jerking and struggling—but he couldn't. The control he had over his body had long since disappeared.

His abdomen was a gaping void of agony, his arms were burning, and through it all, though it was far from the most painful sensation, he could feel Ares moving erratically inside of him. He heard Ares' moans, watched as he shuddered, as he bent his head with a growl, Thanatos' hip bones finally breaking beneath his hands. Thanatos didn't feel the difference between the blood filling him and Ares' semen, but the thought of the other god's cum being inside of him was sickening.

Ares breathed hard, blinking down at him. There was a tinge of confusion in his frown, and belatedly Thanatos realized the thick, bloody fog surrounding him had disappeared. His red eyes were clear, rid of the hunger that had permeated them before.

"You…" was all he said before his eyes rolled back into his skull and he collapsed on top of Thanatos, eliciting a keening sob as pain flashed through his ruined body.

He wanted to laugh. He did laugh, tears still running down his face. Ares had come back to normal—had it been enough to violate him? Would the bloodlust have released him if he'd done it earlier?—only to fall unconscious a few moments later. And he was still buried in Thanatos, his body forcing Thanatos' legs to stay spread. His knife was still lodged in Thanatos' wrists, keeping them continually in the burning process of healing.

Thanatos laughed, and cried, and screamed when his stomach began healing, when his hip bones glued themselves back together. He begged, prayed to fall unconscious as well. Like so often recently, his prayers went ignored.

It took a long time for Ares to wake; the sun had almost completed its daily round, and it had been hours since the void in Thanatos' body had become just his stomach again. It felt like it could just as easily have been days. His wrists were still burning. Ares was still buried inside him.

The shock on Ares’ face as their positions registered in his mind was horrifying, when it should have been amusing. When he abruptly pulled out, almost throwing himself away, Thanatos flinched, choking on a pained moan. His legs were shaking, his thighs aching, but he could finally close them. Ares stared at him with horror plain on his face, and Thanatos wanted to curse at him, demand to know how he could look like that when Thanatos felt like all emotions had been torn out of him, leaving nothing but burning behind.

"I'm…"

Thanatos saw Ares' gaze lock on the knife, and though he reflexively flinched he didn't try to escape when Ares moved closer—no matter how badly every part of his body and mind screamed at him to do so. Only when the knife was pulled out, in one quick movement, did he pull his shaking hands to his chest and curl up, gasping for breath. Choking, as his healing continued, now unhindered.

He heard, more than saw, as Ares reached for him. This time he jerked away, heart thundering in his chest. " _Don't touch me!_ "

For a moment there was horrible guilt, and anger, and grief on Ares' face. Then, it was all wiped away as an expression of careful neutrality took their place. He rose, took a step back. For a long moment he just looked at Thanatos, then he opened his mouth. Whatever he was going to say died before it could get out, however, and instead he inclined his head and disappeared in a gust of blades clanging and people screaming.

Thanatos didn't dare breathe, for a long time. Cradled his hands tight, biting his lips bloody to keep from making a sound. He feared, in the vacant hole in his chest, that if he didn't stay frozen, if he made even the slightest sound, if he made _anything_ that could even generously be called a scream, Ares would come back with that crazed look in his eyes.

Corpses lied all around him, staring with sunken, maggot-filled eyes. Half-decomposed, half-eaten. The stench was becoming unbearable. Was unbearable. He could feel their dead eyes on him. Judging.

Ares wasn't going to come back. The thought settled in his head, the way the sun settled behind the horizon, and he dared to breathe again. Dared to move, unfurling from his curled-up position. He couldn't stay there much longer. Shouldn't. He had to go home, had to go back to his work.

Clean. First, he needed to bathe, needed to clean himself. Water. He needed water to become clean. He had to find water.

He pushed himself up on his knees, but when he tried to rise to his feet his legs betrayed him, giving out beneath him and letting him fall into a heap. It was clear they wouldn't, _couldn't,_ carry him. But it was fine. He was fine. He didn't need to walk.

There was a small lake he knew, that he'd rested by a few times on his breaks. He swallowed deeply and reached for his powers, closing his eyes to not see, trying not to puke when the smell of his smoke enveloped him as he shifted. He had never thought it smelled so strongly before. Had never noticed it had a smell at all. Now, it smelled like blood and rot and death. He knew the taste of it, and kept his lips firmly shut.

On the field behind him, beneath him, around him the black blood had sunk down into the earth. There would forever be a large patch of dead ground, where nothing would grow, where any mortal would feel their life being sucked away. Thanatos didn't think about it. Didn't have the ability to. All he thought about was to get clean.

He arrived at the very edge of the lake. No one else was near, no sounds of humans or animals were heard. Letting out a breath he hadn't been aware he was holding in, Thanatos leaned forward, dipping his hand in the clear water. The blood didn't go off, and he realized he had to actually scrub it off. The thought of touching himself, touching everywhere Ares had touched, every place he had broken and torn and destroyed, made bile rise in his throat. But he had to be clean. He couldn't go home like this, not like _this._ He had to clean himself.

With painstaking effort, and taking far too much time, he got up on his feet. It was a near case that he fell over as he stumbled into the water, but somehow he managed to stay upright. The water was cold, chilling against his still raw skin—he delighted in it, in the change from the burning that had ravished his body from the inside out. When the water reached past his thighs he let himself fall forward, simply stretching out his arms as he was enveloped. His hair, formerly gray, now mostly colored black, floated in front of his face. He closed his eyes and reveled in the silence, in the peace of the water.

But he wasn't made to be without air too long. Soon enough, too soon, his lungs were burning. And there was nothing that stopped him from pushing himself up to the surface again, breathing in deeply as he felt the air hit his face.

It hit him then that it was over. He was free from his hellish experience. There would be no more pain, no one hurting him.

Dropping underwater again made it impossible to tell if he was crying or if it was simply the water engulfing him.

It was a small lake, and he was covered in so much blood. When he was done, when he couldn't see or feel anything dirty left on or in him, he left behind a large pool of black staining the otherwise clear water. It would taint the water, kill everything that lived in it, poisoning anyone who drank from it. He knew it, and carefully avoided looking at it.

When he got out of the water he found it easier to walk, and he could stand on his two feet without hassle. Keeping his back straight he took a deep breath, his fists only clenching for a moment, and shifted. It was time to go home. He had a life to get back to.

His room was as he'd left it, with his scythe next to his bed. The relief as he stepped down on the floor made him almost light-headed, and he took a moment to just breathe in the Underworld's air, feeling it fill his body. It grounded him, made him feel even clearer that he was home again. That _it_ was over.

"Welcome back, child."

His breath caught in his throat, and he didn't dare turn around. Didn't want to turn around. Didn't want to hear the voice, didn't want to face the fact that his mother was there, that she surely knew what had happened. What had been done to him. What _he'd_ allowed to be done to him.

He heard the swishing of her dress as she stepped out from the shadows, and he swallowed hard. With quick steps he walked over to his closet, grabbing a chiton blindly and quickly throwing it over his head. No matter what, he refused to face his mother in the nude; he was a man now, not a small child.

When he turned around he found her sitting on his bed, her hands clasped in her lap, her bright eyes fixed on him. He couldn't face them, looking away after a moment. His hands clenched, and he found himself desperately wishing for something to hold onto.

His sword. Right. He'd forgotten it on that field.

He decided it was better to turn around, get a belt that he could fasten the chiton with. "Mother," he greeted, his tongue thick in his mouth. It was easier to start talking if he wasn't looking at her.

"You have had a most difficult time, have you not?" She must have seen the way he tensed, because she continued, her voice full of sorrow. "You need not speak of it, should you choose not to. I know… enough."

"You… know…" 

He'd hoped she wouldn't, even as he'd known it was a foolish idea. She was the Night. She would have seen everything that happened under her sky.

All he could pray for was that she didn't know what happened last, of the way he'd been violated. The very thought made him shake, made him sick to his stomach. He clenched his jaw shut, reminded himself that, no matter what, he was there. He was whole. It was over.

His mother sighed, and he could hear her shift position. "Come here."

Still, without looking at her he crossed the room and sat down on the bed next to her. When she gently took his hand, he flinched, almost jerked it away before he remembered whose hand it was. Mother Nyx would never do a thing to hurt him or cause him pain in any way, he knew that in his very soul. And, yet, he still wanted to draw back, move away from the touch.

Instead, he squeezed her hand, refusing to give in to the wraith that had tormented him.

"I talked with my daughters," Nyx said, stroking his hand. "I daresay they told me as much as they told you."

"There is no other solution," he said dully. The reminder of his sisters made him remember what they'd said. He was going to make many sacrifices. He'd have to experience all that pain again, and again, and again.

Staring down at the floor, he began shaking as he tried to remember what it was like to breathe. Ares' bright red eyes, his bloodthirsty grin, his bloodied sword. Pain, so much more than he'd ever felt, than he could ever have imagined. The absence of death's relief. Again, and again, and again. _Forever._

His mother's arm wrapped around his shoulder, and he found himself being drawn into her comforting embrace. "I will be here for you, whenever you need me. I will watch for you. Try to remember, when you are out there, that you are not alone, and draw from that what strength you can."

Closing his eyes he wrapped his arms around her, clung to her the way he hadn't done since he was a small child barely reaching her hip. His breath was uneven, he shook uncontrollably, but his eyes were completely dry. Her arms were tightly wrapped around him, and he buried his face in her dress, wishing he could disappear into her darkness. Wishing she could keep him safe.

"My dear, sweet child," she whispered as she stroked his hair. "I am so sorry."

**Author's Note:**

> Specific graphically described things Ares does:  
> \- stabs Than in the heart  
> \- slits Than's throat  
> \- tears off Than's jaw, along with ~half his throat including his tongue  
> \- hacks away at Than with his sword, breaking both his forearms when Than tries to shield himself  
> \- decapitates Than  
> \- incinerates Than's limbs (though only the beginning of this is described)  
> \- stabs a knife into Than's wrists  
> \- lubeless and mostly unprepared, and def brutally, rapes Than  
> \- cuts Than open and tears out his guts  
> \- breaks Than's hip bones
> 
> And that's the list o/
> 
> Now, if you want lots of retweeted art (SFW and NSFW alike) and.... other stuff, who even knows nowadays, but def fandom art, come find me at [twitter](https://twitter.com/tveckling)~


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